


Protectors

by FeralPen



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 16:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15368346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralPen/pseuds/FeralPen
Summary: The world was ugly and cruel, and Melvin wasn't stupid. He knew bad things happened to people who stood up and tried to do the right thing, but that was why he made armor. He protected the Devil, and the Devil protected Hell's Kitchen.





	Protectors

**Author's Note:**

> We need more Melvin appreciation. I know in the canon, Matt's kind of using Melvin for the armor, but Melvin is such a sweetheart - who could help but befriend him? So, a Melvin-centric short fic with friendship! 
> 
> Honestly, I'm not 100% satisfied with this fic. It's a little rough, but I love Melvin a lot, and maybe I'll revisit him again in a more polished form. 
> 
> Also, warning for one offhand ableist slur, the r-word, because people suck and aren't nice to people who are a little different.

In another life, he could be a very bad man.

In this life, though, Melvin was a pretty good man.

Betsy helped a lot with that. Betsy was nice. Betsy never called him stupid, never got mad when sometimes things got fuzzy and he couldn’t remember things too well, never got impatient when he took a longer time to think of things. Betsy was like an angel, pretty and nice.

It was good to have nice, pretty things.

The rest of the world was pretty ugly. Melvin wasn’t stupid. He saw it. He saw rats crawling in the garbage, bad men with guns and clubs doing bad things to people, had been picked on, stomped on, heard whispers of ‘retard’ thrown at his back. He got hit by a car, once. Not too badly, but the driver didn’t even stop. Betsy had made him go to the doctor, when he’d shown her the bruises. She’d gotten so mad that her lips had turned white, but she’d kissed his forehead and said, “No, Melvin, I’m not mad at you. It’s not your fault.” Betsy was the best of the world, he thought. The world could do with more people like Betsy.

Melvin started making armor after that. Maybe if he made armor, people wouldn’t get hurt by bad drivers and bad men with clubs. Naive, maybe, but he wanted to help. He wanted to protect people. The world was ugly and cruel, but he wanted to save it.

If Betsy was an angel, then he guessed it was fitting that his other friend was a devil.

He might be a bad man, too, Melvin thought, because he was certainly scary. He wasn’t a big man, but when he was in the room and he was mad, it seemed like the whole world got smaller, darker. Maybe that was how he’d gotten Fisk. Maybe he’d shrunk the world down smaller and made Fisk smaller, too. Melvin didn’t ask. It didn’t matter. Betsy was safe, the Devil was safe in the armor Melvin had made for him, and Hell’s Kitchen was safer when the Devil was out there.

He didn’t know the Devil’s name. It didn’t really matter. He was still his friend. He thought, maybe, that the Devil didn’t have very many friends, just like him. The world was cruel to people who tried to do the right thing, and every time the Devil stumbled in, smiling sheepishly with another broken piece of armor or damaged billy club and blood on his face, Melvin remembered that. He was always sorry for breaking the stuff Melvin made, though he was impatient. Very impatient. Sometimes Melvin wanted to ask him to slow down, take a break, but he knew without asking that the Devil couldn’t stop. The Devil would tear himself apart trying to protect the city.

That’s why he kept making the armor. They protected each other. Melvin could sleep a little easier at night, knowing that his armor was in between the Devil and the bad men who wanted to hurt him. There were always bad men out there, but the Devil was there to stop them, and angels like Betsy were there to make the world less scary. He hoped that the Devil had an angel for him, too. If he didn’t, well…. Melvin wasn’t nice and pretty like Betsy, but he would try. He always offered him a Yoo-hoo when he came by. The Devil always said no, but he said it with a smile and a thank you, so Melvin kept asking. He knew it was nice, sometimes, to have people ask. 

He didn’t see him for a long time. He kept tabs on the talk in the neighborhood. Nobody had seen Daredevil in months, not since he’d briefly come back out before the explosion at Midland Circle. The Devil had protected Melvin so well that nobody knew about him to tell him if the Devil was okay or not. The world was ugly, though, and Melvin wasn’t stupid. When Betsy asked him if everything was okay, he broke down weeping. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was dead.

Melvin didn’t make armor very much after that. He still tinkered, because sometimes ideas in his head just wouldn’t stop until he did something about them, but he didn’t do it as much anymore. He already had armor for himself, and armor for Betsy, and nobody else left to protect. He threw himself into his day job and tried not to think about the friend he had lost.

One night, though, Melvin went down to his shop. His brain was itching again, buzzing around with a rough outline of a new billy club design. He didn’t want to make it, because making weapons like that was bad, and there was nobody around who would appreciate it, but the design was insistent, and he couldn’t sleep. Maybe drafting it out would calm him down.

There was something - off - though, about his shop. The lights were still off, but when he pulled up the door to the shop and saw that the skylight was open again, he immediately grabbed a mallet off of the nearest workbench.

“Melvin, it’s me.”

He didn’t believe it. The Devil stepped out of the shadows, hands up in a gesture of surrender. He was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, melting into the shadows of the room, but he had a smile on his face and a pack of Yoo-hoo’s on the bench beside him. He was alive and real and -

Melvin grabbed him into a crushing hug.

The Devil was stiff in his arms. Probably surprised, but he laughed after a moment and awkwardly patted Melvin on the back. He was skinny - far thinner than he was when he’d first made the Daredevil suit for him. He was skinny, but he was warm and alive and definitely not dead, and Melvin couldn’t help the tears that were welling up in his eyes.

“I thought you were dead!”

“I know, Melvin, I know,” the Devil soothed, patting him more firmly on the back. “I’m sorry I disappeared on you. I was… in a bad place, for a while.”

“But now you’re back?”

Melvin let go finally and wiped his eyes roughly with his hands. The Devil was still smiling, but he was doing that thing again, where it seemed like the room got smaller and he got bigger. His smile looked dangerous.

“I’m back.” He swallowed and smiled again - less dangerous, more sheepish. “I hate to ask you this, Melvin, but-”

“You need a suit.”

The Devil laughed again. He looked like he hadn’t done that in a long time. “Yeah, I need a suit. I’m sorry. The last one… It kind of got a building dropped on it. It’s not in good shape.”

Melvin smiled. His mind was already buzzing with new ideas, new improvements, new designs.

“I’m not mad, Devil. I can make a new suit. And new clubs. And maybe more things, if you’ve got time.”

He’d already turned his back to the other man and was pulling out a fresh skein of drafting paper when the Devil spoke again. 

“It’s Matt.”

Melvin stopped and looked at him. The Devil - Matt - looked embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Melvin. I’m sorry you thought I was dead, and it upset you. You… You at least should know my name. My real name. It’s Matt.”

Melvin grinned and waved his hand dismissively. “Matt, Devil, what difference does it make? We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

Matt’s breath caught, and he coughed into his fist. He looked like a deer in headlights for just a moment before his face crumpled. 

“Yeah,” he choked out. He licked his lips and smiled again. “Yeah, we’re friends. You’re the best, Melvin. You’re - You really are.”

Melvin smiled and went back to his drafting. The Devil was back. His friend was alive, and he was going to protect Hell’s Kitchen again. Melvin would build him an even better suit, and protect him. The world was cruel and dark, but here in the shop, they made a small flicker of light. Melvin and the Devil - ready to protect Hell’s Kitchen together again. Everything was just as it should be.


End file.
